Transverse Myelitis: My Feet are Baked Potatoes

This is my story of Transverse Myelitis. Hint: The floor is lava! 

If you're a regular reader -crickets- you know that on August 11th of last year I was diagnosed with a very rare spinal/neurological disease called Transverse Myelitis. 'TM' affects approximately 1 person in a million. Yes, I AM one in a million but that goes without saying. 

I'll take the Oxy instead. Thanks Doc 

 If you've never heard of Transverse Myelitis it's not surprising. It's the kind of thing Gregory House would diagnose. My primary care doctor had never heard of it. A neurologist in a small or medium-sized city may come across one case in their lifetime. 

It's a wicked disease with a sudden onset and 80% of the time no forewarning. 

If a TM sufferer does have severe unexplained weakness in their legs it can be shrugged off with 'Jesus I need to get more exercise' or if they pee themselves before getting to the toilet on two or three occasions consider 'Fuck I'm getting old fast.' 

 Don't ask me how I know this. 

I was on disability for a completely unrelated illness before the TM onset. Usual story; A mild-mannered writer, musician, Veteran Burner of 8 years and dangerously fast downhill skier. Okay, not so much the mild-mannered. 

One day I was running errands with a friend and slowly became disoriented.  I insisted on making a bank deposit. It was Sunday and no banks were open but why let reality get in the way of a swelling brain? My dear friend TK pulled up to a random building, gave a hobo $5.00, and pulled away from the curb back into traffic. Seems this cunning plan satisfied me. He then drove directly to the hospital. I opened the car door, and  stepped out. On to my face. Seemed my legs were no longer listening to my brain. Next thing I remember is being in the emergency room with a morphine, then Fentanyl, drip. The pain was worse than:

• a) 29 Hours of Labor and Childbirth
• b) Passing a Kidney Stone As Big As The Ritz
• c) Lumbar Fusion and Recovery
• d) Rupturing Gallbladder
• e) All of the Above. Combined

There was a barrage of questions which I answered cogently yet have no memory of. Followed by MRI's, lumbar puncture, blood work and finally neurologists jacking me up with steroids.
By the next morning I was paralyzed from the waist down. Screw that! During my two month hospitalization  I went from all wheelchair to using a walker in the halls sometimes, stopped drinking coffee with my forehead, and ditched the catheter. Unexpected and inopportune releases of natural gas still occur and I have to schedule bathroom visits to make sure my bladder isn't full, but it beats the hell out of a colostomy bag!

The first two weeks in the hospital were also spent with psychosis and hallucinations. This was a side-effect of the steroids. Didn't make many friends during that time. At one point I briefly came out of it and was chained, with what looked like dog leashes, to a wheelchair. Remember yelling about contacting attorneys, the police and possibly the Better Business Bureau.

Found out later that my restraints were there for my safety. Not the nurses. Whoa. TM has other dandy symptoms besides paralysis. Chronic pain. Forever. Nerve damage that causes, in my case; electrical shocks, twitches, balance problems, overwhelming fatigue, nerve pain manifesting as molten lava running from hip to foot, ripping into the tops of my feet with what feels like a dragon's claws. Some days wearing socks alone cause a creepy boiling sensation. Walking using a walker for support, well shuffling, is made impossible by the nerve pain in my feet

There are a host of bizarre and ever-changing indications. Hell, my blood pressure permanently dropped 20 points. Went from severely hypertensive and on Lisinopril to having an attention-grabbing low B.P. Told you that the cigarettes would never kill me.

I walk on stilts and my feet are baked potatoes. Right? How the hell do you describe this shit.
In the future I look forward to brain lesions, respiratory failure -told you that the smoking would never kill me- and a possible slide into MS. The latter scares me as there are a few people in my Facebook support group who have faced it.

We TMers wake up every morning not knowing what symptoms will occur that day. It makes us braver, more careful of our health, and perhaps a bit more neurotic.

The Grateful and Positive Scale:  I am NOT tied to a bag for the remainder of my life. The lesion is at C4 and my arms work pretty damn well. Bonus: I did not die within 48 hours of a misdiagnosis. Lots of people with TM are quads or remain permanently paralyzed from the waist down. Too many are not diagnosed quickly enough. The paralysis gets to the chest and they die of organ failure, gasping for air before anyone realizes what happened.

I'm one of the lucky ones. Two neurologists were on staff that night and both had treated a Transverse Myelitis patient. It's called Transverse Myelitis as the lesion crosses the spinal cord. The lesion transverses the spine. Myelitis is an inflammation of the spinal cord. For an unknown reason your immune system decides to attack and destroy the mylan (the sheath surrounding the spinal cord), instead of sitting in a corner or working itself up over a flu shot.

There's a Baked Potato Inside Each One!

I had to leave my home in Nevada (because I shot a man in Reno, just to see him die), gave away more than half of my possessions, and moved in with -gulp/shudder/eeeek!- my mom. Life is lived in a small bedroom at the back of her house. I only get out for numerous doctor appointments, and now Physical Therapy.
P.T. is awesome by the way. Painful, but awesome. The first positive feedback on a miraculous recovery that I received, from anyone, in 6 months, was from one of my P.T. therapists. He said I was serious and making great progress. Whoop!

Unfortunately there is no one in this town that I know. Can't drive a car so it feels like I'm a prisoner. My boyfriend of 3 years came to visit me during the 5th week of my hospitalization, my legs were still paralyzed.  He said he'd met someone new.

Honestly, I wish I were dead most days.
Between pain and loneliness, being fairly certain that no man will ever want me again, and no longer having a home, life can be a bummer. It took six months for mom to admit that her eldest daughter would be mainly wheelchair-bound for the remainder of her life. My mom is awesome, but she's the poster child for 'We'll Simply Ignore it and it Will Go Away Syndrome'.

Finally this week she took me to Cripples-R-Us, and made the leap to reality.
Those bastards wanted $300.00 for the cheapest manual wheelchair model, on sale. Ha! After getting back home I spent close to fourteen hours researching all kinds of chairs online. Actually found the one I test drove and ordered it yesterday. $166.00 fully assembled. I rock.
Plus, there's money left over to pay on the collection accounts with various physicians and hospitals, and two chocolate bars. 70% Dark with Sea Salt.
The chair should arrive on Tuesday. This has cheered me immensely today. I'll do the daily at home P.T. regimen for the rest of my life, but there's no way I will walk.
Can do about 5 minutes in the house, when my feet aren't set to 'Boil', with the Cadillac (a cherry-red walker with brakes and a seat) before the pain skyrockets, feet go completely numb and legs give out.
You better believe I've been working it though. ANYTHING to get better and get a life once again.

Still, there are situations that most everyone with a spinal cord injury faces. Mainly, I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. Haven't saved enough to afford the 20% co-pay for the power wheelchair prescribed by the neurologist. The nerve problems in my hands and arms sometimes cause them to cease functioning correctly. A manual chair is just fine with me now though.
Hey baby, can you give me a little push? -provocative wink-

Where do I go for help? Is there any? If it were not for my mother I'd be homeless. How many people do not have this opportunity? What happens to them? Questions pound my head every waking hour. Worried about transportation in this very rural area. Worried about finding a place to live. Worried about a motorized wheelchair. I'm too young for everything from low-income senior housing (jesus that sounds depressing eh?) to meals on wheels. How do I get to the barrage of doctor appointments that TM brings? They're all in Folsom and El Dorado, a half hour drive. The neurologist, Dr. Mengle, sorry Dengle, is in Sacramento. An hour away.

Force my head to consider the progress and good things. Never did purchase or wear the AFO braces on my feet and legs. I can stand on a foam cushion for 20 seconds, and once the floor with my feet together, eyes open, for a full minute. The Lyrica helps with the electrical shocks and best of all I hardly ever twitch now.
Words no longer fail me, unless it's in response to a surreal utterance by my daughter. Coniune working on getting the pain meds balanced and fine tuned. Right now I'm a walking DEA raid.
It's gonna stay that way. Considering a large stock purchase in Milk of Magnesia.

Found a cool psychologist (makes a stylish bookend to the psychiatrist) here in Hangtown. He's helped convince me to start a screenplay (been thinking of this for a few years) and use this to begin a new direction of life.
As with the Transverse Myelitis, I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK I'M DOING! Learning though. Outlining the story, reading scripts, trying to take the director outta my head and remember my only job is to write. For now. Beats watching Wheel of Fortune and eating Pringles all day.

Get Up. Get Out. Get Better.
Brilliant isn't it? These are the words of Lynne Murray, the nifty guy who rolled up and introduced himself to Sandy and I a few weeks ago, as we sat sipping coffee and making a scene at the Cozmic Cafe. Lynn heads a group called the Placerville Mobility Support. There are meetings the 4th Monday of each month. I can hardly wait. ~Miss R

A Banner Sunday for YoYo-Dyne Propulsion Systems

Hey there. It's raining outside. the music library is on shuffle, and I'm taking a break. Just ready to sort out the coming week's medications, vitamins and assorted supplements. Don't know why I crave any actual food after choking all of this crap down each day.

Notice the new YoYo-Dyne banner? Cool isn't it? Adam over at Chowderhead offered to design a banner for the first 25 readers that snapped up his offer. Being adroit at finding all things cheap (see ex-boyfriend) Adam's offer couldn't be passed up.
You can see ALL of the nifty banners he designed at the above link.

For those of you unfamiliar with YoYo-Dyne, here's a quick question.
Have you ever watched Buckaroo Banzai? You know, origin of the oft-used phrase 'no matter where you go, there you are'?
If you're familiar with this 80's fan classic then you're okay. No admission fee for You. But wait! There's another way you can sneak in under the big-top canvas.
Perhaps you've read The Crying of Lot 49 by Thomas Pynchon? You'll see YoYo-Dyne Propulsion Labs show up there for the very first time. Earl Mac Rauch, who wrote the screenplay for Buckaroo, lifted Pynchon's mythical Rockwell/Boeing/Hughes Evil Giant Corporation (because that could never happen right?) for amusement purposes. An in joke for a very small number of fantasy genre readers.
It wasn't until I'd begun tossing around the YoYo-Dyne name in various stories, graphics and conversations that The Crying of Lot 49 became a beloved fixture on my own bookshelf. If you get the chance, read it. Almost a novella, it is not a long read. You'll find a slew of 1960's pop references, all cleverly and amusingly disguised, in The Crying of Lot 49. Pynchon will take you on your own treasure hunt. But this one is mine.


Dammit, another movie entirely

So I started to dig around a bit to see if anyone else had been using and happily abusing the Lectroids and Lord John Whorfin. The latter were all running about the YoYo-Dyne warehouses last I heard, screaming something about Planet 10.

I already knew that the YoYo-Dyne name was unavailable in any url form I wanted. Tried to lock down that baby 15 years ago. Someone I worked with at The WB mentioned that she'd seen a YoYo-Dyne Hair Salon, or Hair Something, in one of the Dakotas.  Weird but cool. My own contribution is this blog, and a Facebook page. Listed my employer on FB as YoYo-Dyne Propulsion Systems: Reno Div. Location, Grover's Mill, N.J. 

In the infinite wisdom of Mark Zuckerberg it seems that by collecting 25 'Likes' your page is considered a viable location. Believe it has over 85 members now, and perhaps 15 or so are friends of mine. My current position, listed on my personal FB page, is CEO, Writer and Fellowship Chair of Banzai Physics. I have a real employer now, YoYo-Dyne Propulsion Systems, that comes up on the link. It must be true.

Found that there was a reference to YoYo-Dyne Propulsion on an old show called Angel, which was a spin-off of Buffy The Vampire Slayer. Seems ABC referenced YoYo-Dyne on a website for a fictional company named PB-Sales. The site was created for the television show Lost.
PB-Sales supposedly owned not only YoYo-Dyne but GeoComtex; a Company owned by Van Stratton from Dr. Who. The site's gone now, but my fangirl neurosis cannot be quelled.

The Doctor is IN

We've gone through enough pointless history on YoYo-Dyne Propulsion systems that my ears have been treated to Madness, Zero7, Ella Fitzgerald, Ben Folds, Wagner and The Format. I'd die without music. It's all that's left. My beautiful concert grand is in Reno, on consignment at a retail music store.

I tried to play one more time before it was dismantled and taken from my home. Still had hands like claws, so even a slow rendition of Scott Joplin's Solace wouldn't come. Now I keep music, books and movies close. Buckaroo Banzai Across the Eight Dimension and John Cale singing Hallelujah, Princess Bride and Gogol Bordello. Tom Woodrell speaks to me while Kings of Leon sing Pyro.
 A good friend pointed out that life is a spiderweb. Everything is interconnected. I don't believe we're separated by 6 degrees, but we may be 3 strands from understanding. So that's all I have to share today. Buckaroo Banzai is available on Netflix streaming again.

Even if you don't love the movie the end title sequence is a gem. Never seen anything like it before or since. The only versions of the credits on YouTube are a mess. Eh, get up and haul your ass over to the TV. It's worth 90 minutes of your time to check out Peter Weller, John Lithgow, Jeff Goldblum and a cast of Lectroids in one of my fave little films. At least you'll understand why YoYo-Dyne Propulsion Systems: Reno Division has been invaded by aliens. Time to get back to the pills and my Fresca. The hands are getting better, so cross your fingers. I feel some ragtime creeping into my soul. It really is a banner Sunday.

                  Laugh while you can Monkeyboy!

 ~Miss R: Fangirl Geek or Eccentric Human? Poll next week.

Owner of an original Buckaroo Movie Poster, Two original BB coffee mugs -still in use and unbroken, a shooting script (photocopy) signed by Earl Mac Rausch (not photocopy), a BB studio promo button and of course memories of the first time I saw this film: in New Jersey with friends on the night it was released. The audience stood and gave the flick a standing ovation. Not something you come across much anymore

Stephen Hawking is a Fucking Crybaby 

This morning I’m sitting outside as the sun comes up over the mountains, cup of coffee in hand.
Being your typical girl my thoughts turn to sound waves and the principles of Van Eck phreaking.The concept is simple: using radio waves to literally see the screen of another computer user’s CRT.

Here’s a brief explanation from WikiPedia so it’s half-assed:

Information that drives the video display takes the form of high frequency electrical signals. These oscillating electric currents create electromagnetic radiation in the RF range. These radio emissions are correlated to the video image being displayed, so in theory they can be used to recover the displayed image.My brain was having a problem comprehending the exact mechanisms for this.

So I decided to call Stephen Hawking.
"Steve! It’s Rachael. Get your lazy bragging wheel-chair bound ass out of bed.”
All I can hear on the other end of the phone is a bunch of flopping and thudding.
God. It’s not as if the guy needs his damned beauty sleep. What does he do all day but sit on his butt?
After a moment I hear “Rachael? What time is it? 6:30 in the morning?”
Except I hear it in that stupid machine voice with all the annoying clicks from that damned box he uses.
For all I know he’s pissed but really who cares. It’s not like he’s got a fucking hike scheduled this afternoon.
I explain my questions about the Van Eck phreaking theory. Sometimes Steve is sorta slow up the uptake so I use really little words.
Before I’m halfway through he starts whining about the last time he was over at my house; he’s still holding a grudge after I filled those ten Diet Coke Bottles with Menthos, attached them to the back of his wheelchair, and sent him blasting off into traffic on South Virginia Street.
It’s not as if an accident is going to incapacitate him. Hell he’s already a crip. Jesus dude get over it.
Anyway, after he gets his shit together and back on track I ask why a computer, which is not a radio last time I checked, is emitting radio signals.
Stephen explains that it’s all a consequence of computers being binary (everything is run on transitions from zero to one and back again).
Computer bits are achieved by regulating back and forth from 0 volts (representing binary 0) to 5 volts (representing binary 1). This manifests as a square wave. Grab an old physics textbook off the shelf if you don’t remember what one of these looks like. I’ll wait.
Okay? Well, it seems that in reality these square waves are not ‘perfect’. In other words they don’t have the nice sharp angles and flat lines shown in books. So now take that goddamned textbook and throw it against the wall. I’ll wait.
Right.
Actually the waves have interference in them, even though they jump from 0 to 5 with rapidity. So the square wave actually has lots of really tiny peaks and valleys (smaller waves in the larger square wave) and the lines are not literally flat, straight or exact at all. They look like a kindergartner drew them. Or Stephen.
The little tiny peak and valley waves are called ‘ringing’.This ‘ringing’ between the actual binary numbers resonate within the circuitry of the computer. Since it’s bouncing around looking for a value it emits electromagnetic waves.
Ah ha.
“So Steve what you’re saying is that this resonating turns every wire and metal cable in the computer into a kind of radio transmitter? That whenever the computer is on it’s sending out radio wave emissions?”
“Yes” click click. It sounds like the bastard is gargling with fucking tacks.
I asked The Gimp-Meister how a person determined which emissions represented the signals from the screen hardware and screen buffer. After all if every ringing is being emitted that’s a hell of a lot of information and most of it has got to be just noise.
Steve said that there are very few predictable signals but one of them is the ticks of the CRT monitor reading horizontal and vertical retrace intervals. Note: that last refers to the way a CRT scans the screen to retrieve information from the screen buffer. Go look it up yourself. I can’t do everything. Sheesh.
The bottom line is that by isolating the radio signal pattern from the CRT a person could literally see, on their own computer CRT, what was on the desktop of someone else.
Oh god I’d better not tell Tinfoil Hat Guy Web Client about this. Aiiiii.
Now you have to realize that this conversation took for-fucking-ever what with Steve whacking on his voice keyboard and me constantly saying “What? What? I can’t understand you Dude. Can’t you enunciate for goddsake?!”

The point is that I now have a better understanding of Van Eck phreaking.
Sadly, being just a girl, I’m not certain that my sophomoric explanation can impart this idea to you. Hopefully it can.
It’s pretty damned cool.Too bad my curiosity doesn’t pay the bills. Stephen probably would have offered to let me stay with him a while except he’s broke right now.
Something about buying a new wheelchair after crashing his into a parked car on South Virginia Street.
Steve. Lighten up. Have a Coke and a smile.
~Miss R

Currently listening:
Tale Spinnin’ [LP Vinyl]
By: Weather Report
Release date: 1975

It was recently announced –by some dingbat- that we no longer have to wait until 2012 to self-destruct. You know those Mayans, they never could count correctly.

Here are a few other idiot's (read: delusional money-grabbing usually invented-their-own religion) End of the World Predictions.

Idiot Listings and predictions:

1. 1. Christians. The entire religion was originally built around the idea that Christ (the short Jewish Rabbi guy) would be resurrected during their lifetime. Ooops. They had to wait until the 1960’s when I was born. Hence my middle name Christine.

1. 2. Your friendly local Jehovah’s Witness door pounders. These guys have gotten it wrong so many times that this religion pretty much died out in the 1920’s. They’re baaaack (Knock knock. Who’s there? A pamphlet describing the earth deteriorating and hoping for the end of the world! –SLAM-). Here are the dates they have previously announced to their followers: 1914, 1915, 1918, 1920, 1925, 1941, 1975 and 1994. So far. Fun Fact: the founder of this religion sold ‘Miracle Wheat’ at hugely inflated prices, promising an unearthly growth potential. Which is odd as he then asked his congregation just a few years later to join him on a mountain top. Because the world was ending.

1. 3. Y2K. Ah, remember the year preceding this when a huge portion of the population began to stockpile food, firearms, water and batteries? Oh, and the Internet was to be the cause of our world collapse. You couldn’t even tell these believers that changing the dates for upcoming millennium had begun at least a year prior. Not just billion dollar Wall Street and Forbes 500 corporations had already rendered a simple fix, but so did every small business owners with a brain. Me for example.
2. 4. Edgar C. Whisenant: Prediction was September 11-13, 1988. Okay this is sad. The poor bastard was a NASA engineer…but also a rapture nutball. He wrote two books, one covertly named ‘88 Reasons Why The Rapture is in 1988. ‘ When that Rosh Hashanah passed with no incident he recalculated his dates and numbers taken from the Bible and announced September 15. Then October 3. He kept re-calculating until his end of the world in 2001. Fun Fact: He announced “Only if the Bible is in error am I wrong; and I say that to every preacher in town.” And a LOT of people took him seriously, including The Christian Trinity Broadcast Network (TBN). The station aired special instructions on preparing for the Rapture as the end date approached.
3. 5. The whole Mayan prediction for next year. Seriously? The fact that a civilization that flourished between 1000 BCE to circa 400 CE even bothered to create a calendar reaching to far into the future isn't interesting enough for you?
   There’s plenty of crap –sorry meant information- available on that floating about. Books, TV, Internet. Look it up yourself.

So, I could go on and on and on ad infinitum. These are just a TINY number and I’m only going back through the last century. There was Haley’s Comet, Hale-Bop (got your roll of quarters and arsenic ready?) and literally hundreds more. All were taken seriously by large numbers of people.

The world will end. Just not in our lifetime. Unless I decree it of course.

Tune in Later for ‘Get your Dancing Shoes On! –a playlist for any rapture or end of the world scenario you’d care to choose.

The iPod is charging up as we speak.

~Miss R

oi.
I just logged in to blogspot to make a comment on another blogger's post and realized that I had an actual semi-live (ah self-description as well) here as well.
I moved my current blog to wordpress although damned if I remember why.
Between the depression, new meds, freakish teenager and my exciting life as a single gal in Reno (note: the preceding was amazingly facetious) hell if I know.

If you're interested or waiting for pain to dry you can read my blatherings there if you'd like.
Otherwise I bid you adieu.

PS When will the mania return so I can lose some fucking weight! Arghhhhhhhh
Now there's a wish only a whack-job could pray for.

So I just finished working on the Elton John's Funeral For a Friend.

Every Halloween I try to have this polished up. I first played the piece soon after Goodbye Yellow Brick Road was released.
Like every other piano-playing kid in those days I waited for the music books to be released after the albums.
After running through the sheet music a musician will begin to add their own flourishes and touches. Everything from additional chords in a segue, to changes in tempo and dynamics. Never underestimate the joy in adding an additional verse done strictly as an improvised solo either.
There are three taboos to fucking with another composer's music:
1. Classical Music. You play it as written unless you're screwing around and it's expected by the audience.
2. Ragtime Music. Um, I occasionally break this rule and there is a lot of controversy about this between devotees of this rather obscure genre. Don't tell.
3. Funeral For a Friend by Elton John. I have always played this as written by Elton. Maybe because it's the best juxtaposition of classical and rock out there. Even all these years later I'll pull out the raggedy-ass copy of the sheet music about 2 weeks before Halloween.
Other than these 3 exceptions I'll do a read though of the piece as written and almost immediately begin inserting my own touches.

This year is different. I was not physically able to work on Funeral for Friend until two days ago. Believe it or not it is a demanding piece. The beginning is quite simple but by the change to Love Lies Bleeding I'm beating the hell out of the piano like Jerry Lee Lewis. Or Ben Folds. Or Elton John.

There is NOTHING as satisfying as playing a difficult, kick-ass piano piece for an audience that appreciates it. Not even good sex can rival the feeling. I can't believe I fucking wrote that either. Clearly being confined to the house for three weeks is destroying my brain.

Well, Funeral for a Friend now sounds great as ever on the upright here at the apartment. Am sure that the poor neighbors would agree. My hands are killing me too.
Ran through some other stuff I'm used to playing at Halloween shows. You know, Werewolves of London, Creep, and a few Chopin nocturnes that will inspire suicidal feelings in the most jaded of humans.
Unfortunately there is no one to listen except for myself and of course the neighbors.

I'm an egomaniac with low self-esteem. A paradox with a piano and no outlet for my musical expression.

Yes it is satisfying playing music for my own edification. It is far MORE satisfying to play for an audience.
Despite butterflies, fear, inevitable wrong chords and notes, I miss it. Even at Halloween. Maybe especially now.
Every band I've ever played in scheduled a Halloween gig. During the years I played solo I always made sure there were plenty of holiday tunes in the repertoire for that most wonderful of evenings. God I can remember throwing in the Addams Family a few times when playing piano bars in the LA area. I've a knack for picking up TV show themes and transforming them into rag versions of their former selves. Yet another useless yet bizarre talent to my credit.

I guess the point of this blog is to say I'm glad to have Funeral sounding great, but disconsolate being unable to share it.

This year Halloween in Reno is bittersweet. Memories…
Elaborate and fabulous parties I would throw in Long Beach, the parades in Greenwich Village while living in NYC, the many years playing riotous and always fun Halloween shows in various bands on both coasts, seeing Oingo Boingo play their annual Halloween show in LA.

If you're driving though my neighborhood this week you're not hearing things. You probably do hear Funeral for a Friend coming in through the car window. You might be surprised at the passion, sadness and strength in the notes.

~Miss R

What goes together better than Nevada Day and Egg Creams?
It's enjoying a home made egg cream on Nevada day while listening to Beck, one of my favorite L.A. musicians. C'mon he even mentions Reno in a song.

I'm not a native Nevadan. Since moving to Reno I'd have to say that maybe 10% of the folks I've met are native to this city. Maybe 15% total were born in Nevada.
This is akin to the joke when I was growing up in Los Angles about finding a native of California. Basically, there were none.
Yes I know that uttering the words California and Nevada in the same sentence is blasphemy. Learned that within days of coming here. Thankfully my move to Nevada was from Michigan and the car didn't have CA plates.
Especially BAY AREA plates.
That's apparently grounds for death by stoning here.
What did I know? I moved here to be with my boyfriend (the prick left me within 60 days of my move to Reno not that I'm still bitter) who was/is a Professor of Atmospheric Physics at UNR.

Confessions of a City Girl:
Week Two as a resident of the Biggest Little City in The World…..

"Hey Girly 'yer hair is so curly and pretty." says a guy about three seats over
"Thank you, I appreciate you saying so" say I, having been raised with good manners.
"Say! It that a New York accent? Are you one of them Jews from Jew York?" he snickers.
--my overloaded brain has a split second to react--
1. Admit the east coast connection (will I EVER lose the Brooklyn inflection on those vowels?!) or
2. WORSE admit I grew up in California; known bastion of liberal commie rich bastard swine who are single-handedly responsible for driving up housing costs, bringing pedophilia back into vogue, and causing all of the C&W bars to close in favor of local rock music venues.
As the drool begins to form at the corner of my mouth I hear my voice spouting…
"MICHIGAN! I come in peace. I came here from Michigan. Is that okay? You know I LOVE NEVADA. Michigan sucks." Which from my personal experience is true.

The guy became quite nice after that and seemed apologetic. I finished my espresso and left. God if he figured that I was from California and could also make an Egg Cream to die for it would've been all over.
I have no fucking idea what he was doing in a coffee bar either.
As an aside the place I'm referring to is Deux Gros Nez and they make a divine espresso. For some strange reason they also have egg creams on the menu. Naturally one day I had to order one. It sucked. You were warned.

My point is that Reno seems to be a quintessential melting pot. There are people here from every state in the country and several other countries as well. Last Christmas I was dating a sweet Australian guy named Ross. He never 'got' the laughter which ensued when we'd go out and people would discover that our names were Ross and Rachael. Luckily for Australia  Friends never caught on.

Nevada is the only state that has, to my knowledge, their own holiday. How cool is that? Even better? It's officially on Halloween. Auspicious indeed.

Check out this float from the Nevada Day Parade in 1939. Sure it looks like a fine sculpted pile of sand or borax is being deified, but look closer. No, a LOT closer. You'll notice that the real point is that Nevada was celebrating it's proudest moment in US History to that date: The longest telegram ever sent.

According to some research I've done it seems that the Nevada State Constitution, and the petition for statehood, was sent via Telegraph to Washington D.C.
Try that today and you'll get a monster phone bill and thirteen binders of documentation to be filled out in triplicate and returned to Washington. As if they'd include a postage paid envelope either.
There are some cool pictures of old Nevada Day celebrations available online, at the wonderful Museum in Carson City and in library archives. I found another old float picture from a 1930's Nevada Day Parade. It shows a bear menacing either women and children or piles of borax and sand. The Bear is the State Symbol of California so it could be the Donner Party quaking there, prior to the snowfall. Maybe this state rivalry predates the last 10 years. Food for thought.
Hey the Donner Party were food for thought too.

People from Nevada are proud to be here. I understand. 25 minutes to some of the best skiing in the world, two great lakes to swim in, endless miles of hiking and biking trails, and the great sunny summers. I love it here.

What's better than a holiday? Especially one that no one else in the country gets to celebrate? A day off from school and work? I'm thinking of staying here permanently.
You should consider it too.
Just don't mention anything about California or New York. We'll just keep slowly bringing sushi and egg creams into the mainstream Reno culture.
Maybe in 10 years we newcomers will be acclimated.
I've already located Fox's U-Bet at Raley's on Virginia and they're having a sale on Club Soda this week too.
We'll have an ex-patriate float featuring sashimi and  Fox's U-Bet Chocolate Syrup.
The two great tastes that do not go great together.
 They can abide side by side in Nevada though.

~Miss R